


Patrol Report: Phil, 5 of 7

by Speary



Series: Down to Agincourt Inspired Fics [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Down to Agincourt, M/M, Phil's Patrol Reports are just fanfiction, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:40:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speary/pseuds/Speary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a partial from one of Phil’s reports. This was one of many reports. The first four are somewhere else. If you are reading this, Cas, give them back. The poems are filed separately. They have been dubbed Phil Psalms. Seriously, Cas, just leave them right where you found them.</p><p>*This is a fanfic of fanfic for the lovely Down to Agincourt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patrol Report: Phil, 5 of 7

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [It's the Stars That Lie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033814) by [seperis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seperis/pseuds/seperis). 



Stranded in a desert vast as all of Hell, the too hot sand burning memories into the soles of my feet. I have been walking alongside the vehicle, searching for anomalies, something worthy of mentioning, something worthy of his eyes. We stopped for the night near a shack. I prayed to the  deathless gods for guidance, and had felt in my core the pull to the distant horizon. There, I could see the beginnings of the dark night peering out over the rolling distance.

 

In the dark there was hope, and I was determined to reach it, or it would reach me. I use to pray to the Sun. I had called out to him in his many names, begging for mercy. But the god of my former idolatry was merciless. His capricious whim seemed to be, at present, to take from me all of the life that was left within me. I now take comfort in the night with the Moon offering the only hope of pleasure in the harsh world.

 

If it hadn’t been for the kindness of the Moon, I would not have seen the strangeness of the land around me. The light that he cast down from the heavens illuminated the small bare wood walls that seemed to be standing by some sort of miracle. The light also fell on the smooth brown land just outside. It was empty, so vast and empty. The air carried silence. No gentle call from the night owl, or chirrup of crickets in high grasses. There was just air and the song of my own thoughts for company.

 

The shelter offered some great comfort, isolation even from those that felt the need to still kneel in worship at the altar of the Sun. Our mission is to exist out here so far from home, observing the vast webwork of life or lack thereof. The others do not see the greater purpose, the too big world that needs to be catalogued for the greater good. They also act as though they need not care for the gift that heaven has given them. The body is a temple, and I intend to keep it as such. My body is prepared to welcome one in need of rest. It is a temple that will provide worship to its parishioner if ever one should come to it for congress.

 

I slept through the first watch and took on the second. I dreamed of moonlight and the grace with which it blanketed the desert. The still, silent world outside called out to me. I walked to the edge of the road and cast my gaze up to the sky. The early pink hues of dawn were already encroaching on the gentle night.

 

The red hues, blood like in their way, grew deeper and deeper. The sky blossoming in wild fire as the Moon slowly thinned and grew dim beneath the sky’s new purpose. We would move on today, once more into the breach.

 

The others dragged themselves back to consciousness in lazy movements making themselves seem almost made of alabaster stone rather than flesh and bone. They had slept in the car in a tangle of limbs that would suffer for the positions that they had chosen.

 

I walked again at the side of the vehicle, making treks out into the rough territory where the jeep could not easily go. The Sun gave me pains for my efforts. The roadside was once again sand and heat. The Sun and sand working in tandem to overwhelm my efforts.

 

I moved with greater speed. Perhaps I had hoped that the faster movements would end the too long day. With faster movements, perhaps, we would find ourselves far from this lonesome place and back in the arms of those that love and cherish us, or at least in proximity of those that bring forth such majesty into this paltry existence.

 

It became hotter as the day wore on. I could feel the burn of it in my neck and arms. The Sun was a jealous creature, intent on teaching me my place while leaving a burning reminder of his dominance. The Sun would leave again though as he was wont to do. For why should it return but to leave again, as its nature compels it so, and its preference, too?

 

The night would come again, and we would stop to rest. I would watch the sky and land for anything that might matter. The Moon was blue tonight and full bright above us. How the others could sleep, I know not. I found a place apart from them and chose to lay out on the still warm earth. The night had cooled it much from the day’s oppressive heat.

 

I laid there in quiet contemplation, the world still silent. There were no gentle calls of night creatures to curl up with under the stars, but I was not alone. The cerulean blue moonlight slipped gracefully over rock and ridge to my supine form. This surreptitious moment, this connection was understood between us. I guard it in my heart, cherish it like precious silver. It is a balm of Gilead on the road to Babylon.

  
I slept there in the protection of his embrace. The gentle Moon giving what affection it was allowed to give. There is no freedom for the Moon, so enslaved as it is by the Sun’s mercurial temperament. The dawn once again chases away our hope. I slip again into my mask of stoicism. We march on through dawn, chasing dreams. Sometimes I think I see a spark of hope in the distance, some gentleness meant for me. But the Sun catches all of these hopes, these dreams, for they alas are meant for him.


End file.
